Haotian set down his pen. A faint scent of ink wafted from the paper, and his neat handwriting stood in orderly ranks like soldiers, silently declaring the end of the exam.
Several examiners eagerly crowded around. Their eyes swept over Haotian's essay on the Will of Fire, and their initially casual expressions gradually stiffened, giving way to undisguised shock.
The words Haotian had written seemed to hold a kind of magic. They presented Konoha's history, spirit, and hopes for the future with a clarity the examiners had never imagined possible. A profound understanding and insight shone through every line, making their scalps prickle as they read.
On the other side of the exam hall, Obito scratched his head in frustration. Beads of sweat the size of beans rolled down his forehead, while only a few scattered words dotted his pristine exam paper, as if mocking his ignorance.
He looked around anxiously. Some of the other examinees were writing furiously, while others frowned in concentration. He alone sat as if on pins and needles.
Seeing this, Lin quietly rolled up a slip of paper and sent it flying onto Obito's desk. It landed perfectly, with answers to several questions written on it.
Obito treated it like a treasure and was about to copy it when he felt a sharp gaze sweep over him—the chief examiner was walking this way.
Obito steeled himself and shut his eyes, ready to face the judgment of fate. But then the chief examiner gave a soft cough and walked elsewhere.
He opened his eyes in confusion and happened to meet Haotian's calm gaze, which seemed to hold some deeper meaning.
Under the surface, the exam hall was rife with undercurrents.
A candidate from the Aburame Clan sent tiny Kikaichū crawling out of his sleeve, trying to